Household Rules
by Kainos Ktisis
Summary: A series of oneshots that revolve around the universal, but not necessarily spoken rules about family life...of course, not without a bit of good, old fashioned fluff. Post AC Cloti
1. Family Comes First

**A/N: **I really shouldn't be writing so much during finals week. I really shouldn't, but I can't seem to help it, so you peoples are the benefactors of my procrastination. Anyway, this new project is gonna be a collection of one-shots and I've decided that, for the most part, they will follow in a general chronological timeline. However, they won't necessarily need to be read one after the other. If there is any one that is specifically connected with another one, I'll be sure to let y'all know in the author's notes.

Oh, and if anybody has any ideas for rules, please let me know either via review or email! Thanks a bunches!!

**Summary**: A series of one-shots that revolve around what it means to live with a family and the universal, but not necessarily spoken rules about family. Post AC. Cloti

**Disclaimer**: Once again, Final Fantasy 7 plus all paraphernalia belong to Squaresoft/Square Enix or whatever the heck they are now.

* * *

**Household Rules**

**Rule Number One: Family Comes First**

It had been a full week since she was last willing to talk to him, not that he could really blame her. He _had_ missed Denzel's tenth birthday party.

Just to be fair though, he really had planned on coming home early from deliveries that day. Unfortunately, he'd gotten a call from Yuffie swearing it was an emergency life or death situation only to find that she was being chased down by Vincent for stealing his cloak. How she had managed to even get close enough to him to steal his cloak was still a mystery.

When the dust finally settled, a week had passed, and at nearly two in the morning, he was left with a long drive back. He would have called, but Yuffie had stolen his phone (hers had been shot to pieces by Vincent after she'd called him for back-up) and made off with it before he even had a chance to blink.

Thus, it was with great weariness and frustration that he was finally able to step through the doors of the two-story home he shared with the woman who pulled him back from the brink of depression and the two children who looked to him as a hero. Unfortunately, he was not met with a hero's welcome.

Instead, he was met with the slap of a stray ribbon. His sharp blue eyes took in his surroundings and found that the other inhabitants of the house had yet to take down the decorations from earlier that night. A banner exclaiming, "Happy Birthday Denzel!" draped across the wall behind their dining table. Colorful streamers and balloons lay strewn about and small pieces of confetti were littered across the floor. _Aw crap_…

Then he saw her. She had fallen asleep on the couch, her body resting on her side. She had curled her legs into herself to fend against the cold night air, one her hands pillowing her head and the other lay close to her mouth. Her sepia hair was tucked behind her ears, and her lips were slightly parted.

However, it was almost like she had a sixth sense when it came to noticing his presence.

No sooner had he kicked off his boots and made his way to the couch to peck her gently on the forehead had she woken up to fix a cold glare upon his visage. "He's really upset," were the first words to emerge from her.

No "welcome home, Cloud" or "how was your day?" or even a "where have you been?"

He gulped. He'd never heard her voice so frosty before, nor had he ever seen such a wilting glower emerge from her beautiful mahogany eyes. "I-I know. Some things came up and I had to take care of them."

Her eyebrow ticked as she brought herself into an upright position. "More important than family?" She didn't give him a chance to reply before continuing, "You promised him, Cloud. Denzel was really looking forward to spending his birthday with you. He just wanted today. This one day and you couldn't even give him that."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I know, Tif, I know. And no, nothing's more important than family. It's just…I don't know. Stupid stuff came up and Yuffie stole my phone and Vincent was chasing her around the planet and just stuff like that." The more he said, the more he realized how pathetic he sounded.

Tifa slid off the couch and he stood with her. She turned those brutally stunning eyes on him and he could see the disappoint roll off her countenance in droves. "Cloud, I'm glad that you care so much about our friends. Really, I am. But do you think Vincent really would have hurt Yuffie?"

His initial reaction was 'Of course' before he realized that wasn't true. Vincent was cold, but he was also deadly loyal to his friends. With a defeated sigh, Cloud broke the eye contact and shook his head.

If he had looked up, he would have seen the ghost of a smile appear on her lips when she saw his strong reaction. But it was only there for a second before she pulled the corners of her mouth back down again. Regardless of how much he resembled a kicked puppy right then and how rare it was to catch him in such a position, this was truly an issue that she wanted to make sure he understood.

"I'm happy that you have so much compassion for others, even if they probably deserved it." At this she couldn't keep the smile from appearing. Yuffie often deserved what she got for what she did. "But Cloud, I really hope you understand that you should take care of your own family first before you mind the matters of other people." At this, her smile disappeared and a wavering inflection entered her voice. "That is, unless you don't think of us as your family."

"Of course I do!" he exclaimed quickly, his vision whipping from the edge of the couch back to meet hers in earnest. Her words from the time they talked in the bedroom after Marlene and Denzel had been taken drifted back to him.

_I guess that only works with real families, huh? _she had said at the time. His heart clenched painfully when he recalled how desolate she had seemed, how sad that despite how hard she tried, she couldn't make their little makeshift family work. But she _had_.

His hands reached out on their own accord and rested on her shoulders, his vibrant cobalt orbs gazing into her eyes with such thrilling intensity, she felt a shiver run up her spine. "I've never felt more at home than I do now. Honest."

A bright glow immediately replaced her forlorn expression. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course," he replied softly, his eyes drifting to her lips briefly before returning to hold her gaze. A not-so-unfamiliar feeling wafted up in his chest. It happened at a more constant rate now, that desire to hold her and to touch his lips against hers. It had always been there, he knew that much, but it grew stronger everyday. Yet something held him back.

Maybe it was insecurity or maybe still had not learned to completely let go of the past yet, but something held him back from initiating a physical relationship with her. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he knew he would not be able to stop himself once he began that kept him from doing anything. He knew that she wanted to be married before starting any _intimate_ relationships and he respected that.

Thus, it was safer for the moment just to not do anything at all. Of course, that resolve was becoming harder and harder to abide by each day that passed, but he would survive until…

_Until what?_ He questioned himself. The wiser part of his conscience told him. _Until you get married, you dimwit_.

As these internal conflicts were running amuck in his head, Tifa had been staring at him. She was sorely tempted to wave a hand to break his stupor, but at the same time didn't want to be the one to separate their contact.

_Goodness she was pathetic_, she thought wryly.

Just when she was beginning to question her mental state, Cloud seemed to snack out of his reverie. She couldn't be certain in the dim light, but she thought that the slightest tint of pink was gracing his cheekbones. His hands slipped off her shoulders and she couldn't stop the shudder when his fingers accidentally grazed the bare skin of her arms.

"I'm gonna go check up on Denzel," he mumbled before quickly shuffling away.

She nodded absent-mindedly as she stared after his retreating form. With a wistful sigh, she clicked off the lamp and headed for bed.

…

He slowly pushed the door open to Denzel's room before sliding in. He stepped up to the bed as he dropped off his present on the nightstand.

Denzel was obviously not a still sleeper, marked by the rumpled sheets shoved to the foot of the bed. With a smile, Cloud pulled up the sheets to his chin and lightly ruffled his hair. "Happy birthday, kid," he whispered.

Just as he was about to leave, Denzel stirred in his sleep. "Cloud? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Cloud turned back to see him sitting up in bed. "I'm sorry."

Denzel shrugged a little sleepily, but his weariness wasn't enough to miss this opportunity to talk with his hero. "S'okay. I was having trouble sleeping today anyway."

"I mean about missing your birthday."

"Oh. It's okay, too." Denzel really was starting to act like him, right down to the unwillingness to share his emotions.

With a sigh, Cloud sat down on the edge of his bed and shook his head. "No, it's not okay, Denzel. I made a promise and I didn't keep it. You don't need to keep everything hidden away. If you're mad at me, it's better to tell me than to let your emotions bottle up."

_Wish somebody would have given me that advice when I was younger_, thought Cloud.

Denzel crawled out of the tangle of his blankets and sheets and sat down next to Cloud, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. "I'm really not mad at you, Cloud. I'm sad you didn't come, but I know that other stuff is more important. 'Sides, there's always next year."

Cloud looked into the boy's cerulean eyes and saw the honesty and warm emanating from them. _Maybe he's more like Tifa after all_. Out loud, he said, "No Denzel. Nothing is important than family." He reached out to ruffle his hair gently. "How 'bout this? Tomorrow I'll take a day off and I'll tell Tifa to close the bar. Then the four of us will do whatever you want to do. Sorta like a make-up birthday bash, yeah?"

A wide grin spread across his face—quite nearly as wide as the time Denzel was first healed of his Geostigma—and the boy threw his arms around Cloud's neck. "That'll be awesome!"

Too surprised to react at first, Cloud slowly relaxed and let out a chuckle. "Alright, well, you better get to bed then."

Denzel nodded enthusiastically and was about to climb into bed when he noticed the box on his nightstand. Cloud followed his gaze and reached out to hand it to him. "Happy birthday, Denzel."

Fortunately, Cloud hadn't bothered with wrapping paper—he never quite understood how to get rid of the wrinkles—since Denzel probably wouldn't have wanted another layer separating him from a present from his role-model. His eyes widened in awe as he pulled it from the box. In his hand lay a thick chain-linked necklace with a pendent in the shape of a wolf-head—very similar to the one in Cloud's own armor—both wrought out of mythril.

"This is…really for me?" His voice was laced with complete amazement and it shook with joy.

"Of course. That's why I gave it to you."

"Thank you so much. You're the best Cloud."

Cloud's cheeks were noticeably red by now but he hid it gruffly as he ruffled the mop atop of Denzel's head that passed for his hair. "Hm. Time to get to bed."

Denzel obeyed and just as he was about to drift off into sleep, he mumbled, "G'night Cloud." The last words sounded suspiciously like he had said "G'night Dad" however.

"Goodnight."

Cloud walked quietly to the door and slid back outside only to be startled by Tifa's presence. A veil of red layered her face and he knew that she was embarrassed over being caught eavesdropping. He couldn't help but notice that the extra color only served to make her look that much more beautiful.

They didn't say anything as they made their way towards their individual bedrooms. The walk was a short one and within seconds they were already by the door to Tifa's room, which was one door before his. They paused there hesitantly before Tifa finally mustered the courage to fix her eyes upon Cloud's.

"That was really sweet of you," she said softly.

He shrugged to hide his blush. "Like you said, family first, right?"

She smiled, and before he had time to react and before she could think about it further to regret it, pushed herself on her tiptoes to peck him lightly on the lips. "G'nightCloud," she slurred quickly before slipping inside her room and closing it behind her.

Cloud stood there stunned for a couple of minutes longer, his hand absentmindedly reaching up to brush the spot where her lips had landed. Slowly, a ridiculous grin spread across his features as he finally picked up his feet to go to his own room.

"Family first indeed."

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**A/N**: Righto. So there's my first installment. Hope y'all liked the interaction between Cloud and Denzel plus the little bit of Cloti fluffiness in there. Well, if ya liked it, drop me a review. If you hated it, still drop me a review. I can take criticism pretty well. Hehe... 


	2. Mother Knows Best

** A/N:** Hihi. I'm back with the next installment of this series. I just came back from spring break at my sister's place and I can tell you that I have thought up several more ideas for rules. Let's just say that a week with my sister and her fiance has been quite...enlightening, for lack of a better word.

Anyway, thank you readers sooo much for the response that this project has gotten so far. I'm glad people are enjoying this and I'm proud to be advocating the Cloti-ness!

Oh yeah, and even though I said I have more ideas now, I would love to get even more ideas from readers out there. Although I do have a general idea of where I want to end, the conclusion of this series isn't coming for a long, long time, and I really need more rules to fill in the gaps.

Anyway, that should be it. Enjoy and review please!

**Disclaimer**: I own many things, such as my computer and my guitar and several cds and a couple of games, but I do not, unfortunately, own Final Fantasy 7 or Advent Children. Well, I mean I have the game and I have the movie, but I don't make any money off of it. They are property of Square Enix.

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**Household Rules**

**Rule Number Two: Mother Knows Best**

There are certain attributes that are, for a woman, purely instinctual. Motherhood is one of these. Certainly, there are those who are better adapted towards handling the responsibilities and joys of maternity, but in every woman lurks the natural capability to care for her young—and for some, the young of others. Along with this natural capability is the set of regulations that every woman seems to have ingrained in her mind from the moment she conceives—or receives in cases such as adoption—her first child.

As thus, it should really come as no surprise that a mother knows best.

For a certain brunette by the name of Tifa Lockheart however, this attribute is severely undermined in the minds of her two quasi-adopted children by a certain blonde who goes by the name of Cloud Strife. On what grounds does this Cloud Strife bring doubt to her authority? Simply for being the greatest hero that ever graced the earth with his presence in the eyes of two rather impressionable children, of course.

Now, regardless of the gravity of this silent battle for authority, the two entities—namely, Motherhood and Hero-hood—have lived in general peace for quite some time. In fact, Hero-hood has often proved to be a great support to Motherhood when the need arises.

However, despite whatever temporary treaty the two have agreed upon, there comes a day in every household when the inevitable clash between Motherhood and Hero-hood must take place.

For the residents of a certain bar that is known as Seventh Heaven, this moment came riding on the fringes a sunny albeit overcast day.

…

"Denzel! Don't eat that. It's gonna give you a stomachache," reprimanded Tifa from over her shoulder as she continued to clean the dishes.

Denzel frowned. How Tifa always managed to spot him sneaking a snack or two simply amazed him. It was almost as if she possessed a sixth sense when it came to food.

"Marlene, if I catch you trying to steal another piece of cookie dough, you're gonna be in serious trouble, young lady."

Denzel looked over at the guilty girl and the two children shared an exasperated sigh. Two for two. Man, she was good.

"Cloud! What do you think you're doing?! Hands off the chocolate!"

The duo threw a surprised look at the sheepish adult who was reluctantly retreating from the kitchen, and the three culprits shrugged with defeat. Make that three for three.

Tifa was everything the trio could ever ask for rolled up in one. She was the reason that their world made sense, and, more often than not, they found themselves wondering if she wasn't the one who made the world spin for all her diligence. Still, despite her many virtues and caring personality, they couldn't help but sometimes feel that she was a bit too strict with them, especially in regards to snacks.

About a year ago, Cloud had succumbed to the fact that he possessed an incurable sweet-tooth in spite of his rugged outward appearance. Some battles are never meant to be won and the battle against the desire for sweets is one that should never be taken. Ever.

Since then, however, the poor matron of the bar had had her hand full dealing with two restless children and the hero of the world pilfering delectable goodies behind her back. It was no simple task, but one that must be carried out nonetheless.

…

_Do I risk it or do I not? On the one hand is _that_, but on the other is facing Tifa's wrath. So do I go for it or not? I probably shouldn't. But, how can I resist? Tifa won't be happy with me if I do it though. But, it's ice cream! How can anyone resist ice cream?!_

And thus did Cloud's train of thought wrap themselves around that pillar of the most scrumptious sort later that afternoon.

He had just returned from a quick delivery and had caught a brief glimpse of the sign as he passed by on his Fenrir. So excited was he that he doubled back just so he could read the sign properly and ensure that his eyes weren't fooling him. Indeed they were not.

Today's special: one gil per scoop.

Goodness that was tempting. But no. He had to set an example for the kids, regardless of how angry that would make his taste buds.

However, little did he know that just as he was coming to that conclusion two connivers down the hall were trying to think of ways to get their hero to bring them to the local ice cream parlor. The slight quake of the carpet beneath him was all the warning Cloud received before Denzel and Marlene launched themselves through his door and wild arms came flailing into his vision.

Apparently they'd found out about the deal as well.

One gil per scoop. It was a child's fantasy come true, and a mother's worst nightmare

Now, children are often far smarter than adults give them credit for. While their actions may seem merely as coincidental or having little thought, it cannot be denied that they have an exceptional perceptiveness when it comes to which parent to attack when either they are looking for a less severe punishment or a more favorable response. For example, if Denzel had broken the glass to a neighbor's window, he would have gone to Cloud first. After all, regardless of Cloud's lack of childhood games, every man could sympathize with and recall the terror of screaming and angry neighbors.

Similarly, when children want something—like ice cream—they go first to the parent that is more likely to give in to their wishes, which in this case, meant Cloud.

"Cloud, are you busy?" began Marlene in that cute little girl intonation that would raise alarm sirens in every parent.

Cloud blinked once, then twice as he drawled, "No."

"Then does that mean you can take us out?" asked Denzel excitedly. His bright blue eyes nearly matched Cloud's in respect to intensity and, at this moment, they shone with such hope and adoration that Cloud found himself thanking the God of the universe for blessing him with such a family.

Still, he was well aware with what Tifa would allow and what she wouldn't, and he wasn't about to contest her standards. Yes, he may be a hero in the eyes of the world, but when the adversary with whom he was opposed was a young barmaid named Tifa Lockheart, his courage would fail and all thoughts of opposition quelled. Thus, it was with great caution that he slowly replied, "Maybe. Where do you want me to take you?"

Denzel and Marlene shared a conspiratorial look before beaming up at Cloud. "Can you take us to the ice cream shop?"

_That must have been rehearsed or else there's no way they could be so in sync with each other_, thought Cloud amusedly, his earlier resolve crumbling to nothing. "I don't know. Have you asked Tifa yet?" The two children stared at him blankly. "I'll take that as a no then."

"Please Cloud? You know Tifa won't let us go," whined Marlene as she tried a new tactic: the guilt trip.

"Come on Cloud. You know you want to go too," Denzel continued on their barrage on Cloud's willpower. The man threw a shocked look at the young boy. When had he learned _that_ particular tactic?!

"But what do I tell Tifa?"

The toothy smiles and sparkling eyes that greeted him were almost enough to make him forget about the severe punishment he would receive if Tifa found out that he had taken the kids to the one gil per scoop special.

Marlene crossed one arm across her chest and the other came up to cradle her chin in a fashion that she had picked up from Tifa. "Mm…you could just say that you're taking us out."

"And if she asks to where?"

"Um…that we're going for a little after dinner walk around the neighborhood!"

Cloud considered this for a moment. It wasn't a lie and he supposed it sounded plausible enough. With a sigh, he finally relented. "Alright."

Denzel and Marlene awarded each other with a thumb's up.

…

Dinnertime found two children with strangely little appetite. Tifa eyed the two kids with suspicion before fixing her searching glare on Cloud, though her question was addressed to the other two. "Is there something wrong with the food?"

"No!" chimed the two children.

"Right. So is there a reason that neither of you are eating?"

"No!" "Yes!" replied the two simultaneously. They glanced at each other nervously before shouting out, "Yes!" "No!"

"So is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?"

"It's both," said Marlene as her brain worked furiously to amend the situation. "See, we didn't want to eat too much 'cause Cloud said he'd take us out for some exercise after dinner and we know you always tell us not to eat too much before exercising because that'll make our stomachs hurt."

Tifa nodded in that motherly way that others would recognize as one that meant that she knew what they were up to and wasn't about to fall for it. "Is that right? Are you sure you weren't planning on going to that one gil per scoop deal over at the ice cream parlor down the street?" Her voice rang with skepticism.

"Of course not!" exclaimed the trio simultaneously, although perhaps a little too in sync to be innocent and Cloud realized too late that it would have been wiser to stay out of such matters.

A finely arched eyebrow declared her doubt, though in the end she decided not to expose their ruse. It was time they learned their lesson anyway. "Mmhm. I'll bet. Well, just remember to be back before bedtime and stay close to Cloud, not that I really need to tell you that for you two to do it anyway." The last part was more of a mumble to herself than anything.

"Yes!" Denzel and Marlene jumped for joy and Cloud could barely contain his own excitement, although a part of him wondered why Tifa was suddenly slackening her usually tight rein on their sugar intake. He wasn't fool enough to think that Tifa had been deceived by the poorly concealed lie.

Mentally shrugging, he decided that it was best not to think of such things and allowed the pure bliss of the moment to shine through. That is, until Tifa came up next to him and, with a wink, whispered, "Don't eat too much ice cream."

Despite the fact that he knew that she knew their true intentions, Cloud still couldn't help but be surprised at her acuity. But, he supposed that was a faculty that came with the whole mothering thing. He responded with a nod as the two excited children practically dragged him out the door, completely missing the knowing smile that spread across her lips.

It was a wonderful day to be alive

…

It was an awful day.

Whoever said that a person can never have too much ice cream flat-out lied. Cloud was a living testament.

With a pained groan, Cloud adjusted Marlene in his arms as he fished for the keys in his pocket. The girl had eaten so much ice cream that every movement pained her, including walking. Denzel had fared only slightly better. Although he ate more than Marlene did, he felt that as a man, he had to show that he was strong enough to make it back home without any physical help.

That didn't mean that he didn't complain, however.

The short ten-minute walk back from the ice cream parlor suddenly seemed to last ten hours as Cloud had to put up with a close-to-tears Marlene while listening to Denzel's mumbled complaints while dealing with his _own_ upset stomach.

There is a reason that parents don't allow their children to order just anything and everything, especially if they are parents who want to stress not wasting food: all of that extra food the kids don't finish automatically end up on the plates of the parents.

This was no different.

In addition to the slight overestimation of his own appetite, Cloud also had to find space in that poor organ of his to fit the majority of the children's after-dinner meal. He found that they weren't joking when they said they were going to have a little exercise; unfortunately, he hadn't realized that it would be a strenuous work-out for his digestive system.

Regardless, the three suffering souls had somehow managed to make it back to the Seventh Heaven with relatively few mishaps—save for the time Marlene declared that she felt like she had to vomit.

Tifa, upon noticing their return, couldn't keep the little smirk from appearing on her face. Some lessons are best learned through first-hand experience. However, to her credit, she did not push the matter. A night's worth of stomachaches was punishment enough. That did not mean that she didn't have a little fun at their expense. "Have a good time exercising?"

Cloud narrowed his eyes at her and replied with a sarcastic, "Oh, just jolly."

"I'm sure."

She took Marlene from his hold and carried her upstairs to her room while Denzel trudged slowly behind them to his own. Cloud decided that the couch looked much more inviting than the staircase did and plopped down on one end, only to have his angry stomach penalize him for such a callous act toward his own body. Cold sweat racked his body as he shut his eyes and slouched lower, willing the pain to go away.

"I really hate to say 'I told you so' because that would make me sound so childish, but I think I've earned the right to indulge myself, don't you think?" Tifa commented with an innocent lilt in her voice, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. Not surprisingly, the children had not caused much of a fuss tonight when she put them to bed.

She leaned over the back of the couch so that her face hovered over his in an upside-down direction. Cloud glared at her with whatever vestiges of strength he could summon, which, in truth, was not much at all.

His glower had the opposite of the intended effect, and Tifa burst into an uncontrollable bout of laughter. "Hey, don't give me that look," she finally managed between gasps. "I told you not to eat so much ice cream, but _no_. You had to be a stubborn man and prove that your stomach is capable of handling such copious amounts of ice cream. Not my fault that you wouldn't listen to me."

Cloud attempted a groan, but it came out as a squeak instead which immediately prompted Tifa into another fit of laughter. This was really doing nothing for his ego. Not only had he been proven to be less than invincible in the eyes of the children, but now he had to suffer through Tifa's teasing. There is truly nothing in the world that is more humiliating to a man than to be made a fool of in front of the woman to whom he has vowed—despite the fact that it was done so in his own mind—to protect with all his strength and to whom he has dedicated his heart.

Although, he had to admit that seeing her laugh so freely was almost worth the humiliation. Almost, but not quite.

Whatever thoughts of disgrace were immediately quelled, however, when he felt a pair of soft lips gently press against his clammy forehead.

"You're so cute when you look so helpless," Tifa murmured fondly when she pulled back, her dark hair spilling off her shoulders and the tips tickling his stomachache-induced—or so he told himself anyway—blushed cheeks in the process.

Cloud could only stare at her in ill-masked surprise. Certainly, there had been several more instances of open affection between the two ever since the incident at Denzel's birthday, but he still could not believe that the fantasy he'd indulged in for so long had finally become a reality.

He was dating Tifa Lockheart. Tifa Lockheart was dating Cloud Strife. Him. Goodness that sounded so surreal. Indeed, it seemed like her touch would never fail to provoke the spells of warmth coursing through his veins nor did his mind ever fail to question how and why such a wonderful woman would ever bestow her favoritism upon him.

_I suppose I can take being wrong every now and then._ _After all, mothers are supposed to know best, right?_

A small smile crept its way to his face as he struggled to sit up so that he could tenderly plant a chaste kiss on her lips. However, he hadn't expected Tifa to pull away so that his lips met with air.

"Uh, uh. You've already had your fair share of dessert today. Besides, I still haven't settled the score of you and the kids ganging up to lie to me." His look of pure incredulity proved to be too much for the kind-hearted woman to deny as she let out a chuckle. "But, I guess I can think of it as _my _dessert, yeah?"

With that, she closed the distance and melted into a kiss that tasted vaguely of a mix between mint chocolate chip and strawberry cheesecake. Excess is a problem, but there's no harm in having a little bit of ice cream, right?

* * *

**A/N:** Oops. I think I ended up straying a bit from my original intent, but that's okay. I'm not a very structured writer so I don't know why I'm expecting my writing to come out structured. However, I do hope that I didn't make Tifa sound like a slave-driver who doesn't let the kids have any fun because that's definitely not what I was trying to do. I was just trying to get at the point that (most) kids often think that their parents are too strict on them, even if that's not necessarily true. Also, while the kids have accepted Tifa as a mother-role, they still kind of view Cloud as a hero more than as a father, although in many cases, children's heroes happen to be their fathers. Ah, whatever. I think I analyze my own writing too much. Comes with being an English major. Hehe...  



	3. Children Need Fathers More Than Heroes

**A/N**: Yay! Finally got this out. This one was really difficult for me to write for some reason. It delves a little deeper into Cloud's psyche and is not as humorous as the previous two, but I really wanted to beat this point out. I'm not entirely satisfied with how it came out, but I just wanted to finish this. Oh yeah, while I think that a rating of K+ shouldn't have _any_ cussing in it at all, I did use curse words in this chapter simply because I was replicating the words used in Advent Children and I wanted to stay faithful to the dialogue. I'm not about to change the rating just because of that. So sue me. Actually, please don't. But a review would be nice. And thank you so much for all the support!!

Ah...and I totally forgot. This one is set sometime between Rule Number 1 and Rule Number 2. Just thought I'd mention that.

**Disclaimer:** The last time I checked, I still only have 500 dollars in my bank account. That means that I'm not making any money off of this and that FFVII and Advent Children still belong to Square Enix.

* * *

**Household Rules  
**

**Rule Number Three: Children Need Fathers More Than Heroes**

In the eyes of most children, the father is the embodiment of all that is heroic, all that is moral, and all that is right. He is a pillar of strength and a bastion of might. He is a refuge of hope. He is invincible.

Unfortunately, there also comes a time when the child realizes that his father is indeed fallible and less than perfect. Yet it is also during this time that the child finds that what he needs is not so much the faultless, unapproachable being that is little more than a figment of his imagination, but a living, breathing _father_.

However, this transition from hero to father is not always a smooth one. Oftentimes, this alteration involves the very confused emotions of a child trying to sift out the differences between the two roles and the overpowering feelings of denial in a father, knowing that his child no longer views him as supreme.

Yet, it is still a transition that is necessary in the dynamics of every family and cannot be avoided forever, even if _this_ particular family is far from the average family.

It is never an easy task to step into the shoes of being a father, even when they are biologically related, much less in a family that was brought together by the whims of fate.

Perhaps that had been part of the reason Cloud had left his makeshift family in the first place two years ago when he found that he had contracted Geostigma. He was afraid of disappointing the woman who had done so much for him and the children whom he loved as his own.

If there was any single driving force to the purpose behind Cloud's actions, it was that he did not want to fail his family. Certainly, his family, if it can be called such, was a bit unorthodox—being comprised of a barmaid who played mother to a boy who was found in an abandoned church and a little girl whose true adopted father had a prosthetic limb that could transform into a machine gun at will—but it was _his _family nonetheless.

Still, good intentions are never enough to absolve a wrong, and though they say that time heals all pains, the path to recovery is never quite so simple.

To be disappointed once leads way to a second and a third disappointment. We humans are driven by the desire not to disappoint, not to fail, and usually, that is not a bad thing. However, problems arise when one person's definition of disappointment differs vastly from another's definition.

For example, in Cloud's mind, being anything short of being a hero would be disappointing to his makeshift family. In order to amend this, he would often spend days on the road, not allowing them to see him in his depressed and troubled state. After all, heroes are never supposed to be troubled, right?

However, his family had a slightly different perspective on disappointment. In fact, it was nearly the polar opposite of his. All they ever wanted was for him to be there for them and for him to allow them to be there for him, to share both his joys and his tears. Unfortunately, this was something that Cloud had yet to come to an understanding.

And so it was that the poor man had resorted to the only method of self-examination of which he was comfortable: he took to the roads in a pitiful attempt to shield his deficiencies from the eyes of his family.

The scenery on either side of Fenrir blurred into blobs of green and blue, grey and black, as he sped on. He didn't know where he was headed; all he knew was that riding provided him with the escape he so desperately sought. He couldn't let them see him break down. He wouldn't.

_You think you have it so damn hard_.

Her words suddenly returned unbidden and resonated in his memory, haunting him. She hadn't completed the thought at the time. There was no need. He knew what she wanted to say:

_You think you have it so damn hard. What about the rest of us? Do you think it's easy for Barret to lose his wife, his best friend, his hometown and be despised by the rest of the survivors for being the man responsible for it all? Do you think it's easy for Nanaki to keep up his mask of coolness when he's the only survivor of his species, and the only person that could even remotely be considered his relative died of old age? Do you think it's easy for Vincent to constantly be fighting monsters in his head for his very sanity after he was killed and brought back to life by a lunatic scientist and his ex-girlfriend? Do you think it's easy for Yuffie to put up with all the age-old traditions of Wutai including an arranged marriage and always faking that cheerfulness when all she wants to do is cry for a childhood that never existed? Do you think it was easy for Aerith when she left all she held dear in this world to sacrifice her very life to save that which she loves? Do you think it's easy for Marlene to live a life of an orphan even though she has an adopted father who loves her, but doesn't know how to manifest that love? Do you really think it's easy for Denzel to struggle through his pain and still be happy despite how much the Geostigma hurts him? You really think you have it hard? Why can't you be thankful for what you have? Why can't you cherish it?_

His bleak thoughts only served to multiply his guilt. Not only was he useless, he was selfish and nothing but an emotional burden weighing down those that he cared for and loved. He didn't know how to be a father. How was he to know what to do in the stead of one when he never had a model to imitate? He couldn't do this whole "family" thing. Maybe he should just leave them. He didn't deserve to enjoy their laughter nor their happiness.

"_But the kids think you're their hero_," spoke the little voice in his head otherwise known as his conscience. However, at that moment, it sounded painfully similar to Zack's voice.

"_What do kids know about heroes?"_ returned the cynic in him.

"_A whole lot more than you do apparently_."

"_I'm no hero."_

"_Maybe _you _don't think you are, but _they _do. Don't they deserve to be happy?"_

"_Yes, but I'm not the one to give them that happiness. I'll only disappoint them."_

"_And here I thought that you got over your self-pitying stage already! The only way you'll disappoint them is if you leave now. You know that. Well, obviously you know that since I _am_ your conscience and all."_

It was along this train of thought that Cloud lost himself and the last thing that came to him before a field of black engulfed his senses was that maybe it _was_ time to go home.

…

The faint but incessant chirping of some mechanical nature alerted him to the fact that something was amiss. It did not take long for him to realize that he was lying in a recumbent position with warm, little pads attached to his major pulse points and a ticklish sensation ran down the length of his left arm. It was also approximately at this time that he noticed some obtrusive material—it felt strangely like hard plastic—was pressed firmly against the skin around his mouth and nose.

It was not long before his mind subconsciously noted that the hard plastic was that of a respirator and that the annoyingly persistent beeping emitted from a heart rate monitor. It was then that his numbly surprised mind decided that his eyes have been shielded from the beauties of the world for far too long.

What he noticed when he awoke, however, proved enough to shake him from his stupor into a state of alarm.

Sitting with her arms and head slumped over the rail of the hospital bed which he currently occupied was a woman whose presence simultaneously calmed and excited his senses. For a brief, terrifying moment, he couldn't help but think that her limp form was an unnatural one—one that was as unnatural as the time he found her crumpled in a bed of flowers. His fears were quelled, though, when he saw the reassuring sight of her back rising and falling with each relaxed breath.

Her head rested tiredly on her crossed arms and he realized that it was the tips of her dark sienna tresses that had caused the ticklish sensations along his arm. He lifted his hand to gently run his fingers through its silky lengths, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he watched her sleep.

It was for this sense of peacefulness and contentment that he yearned. Whenever he was in her presence, any doubts, any qualms he had about anything seemed to melt away.

He turned his attention to the rest of the room as he realized for the first time that he was in a hospital. He wasn't supposed to be in a hospital. He was supposed to be on the road. He was supposed to be on the road heading _home_.

"_So you decided to go home after all."_

The voice was familiar yet strangely distant in his mind. He knew the implications of this; he was beginning to forget the sound of her voice. "_Aerith_," he acknowledged mentally. "_It's been a while."_

"_I know," _returned the spirit. "_There hasn't been a need."_ There was a pause. "_Zack told me about your guilt trip, no pun intended by the way."_

"_So that _was_ Zack in my head earlier?" _Why was he not surprised?

"_Mmhm. He said he got tired of your pity complex."_

"_Sounds like something he would say."_

Another pause. "_So?"_

"_So what?"_

"_So why'd you go running off _this_ time?"_

"_I didn't _run_ off. I just needed time to think."_

"_About what?"_

"…_I just…Denzel…He…He asked me if I could be his dad," _he finally managed to sputter out in his oh-so confused mind. The Ancient tried to hold in her laughter. She really tried, but it was in vain. He flinched when her chortles resounded in his head. _"Is there a reason that you find that funny?"_

"_Haha…no…I mean, yes…Oh goodness. Haha…Hang on a second."_ He waited with thinly veiled patience Aerith attempted to control her merriment. When she finally settled down, it was with surprisingly seriousness that she addressed him. _"Cloud, did you ever wonder why you found Denzel at the church?"_

"…"

"_It's because he's a lot like you. He tries so hard to be strong, to pretend that he doesn't need anybody, yet he's just a scared child inside. He wants to feel accepted and he wants to be loved, but he's afraid of rejection. He's afraid that one day his hero will leave because he wasn't good enough. He's afraid that he'll have to face the cold nights huddling to himself again. Did you ever find out anything about your father?"_

"…_No…"_

"_Do you know what happened to his?"_

"…_No…"_

"_He doesn't either. Cloud, I brought him to you hoping that not only would he help heal your wounds, but that you would heal his. He needs you to be a father figure for him. That's all."_

He was glad that he was rescued from having to think up another excuse—since he couldn't—when the brunette who was sleeping by his side stirred.

Tifa wearily pushed her upper body away from the bed and rubbed her eyes sluggishly. She must have been really exhausted to move with such slow speed. However, her fatigue faded almost instantly when she spotted two spots of bright blue watching her every move with avid curiosity.

She stared back for only a second before launching her arms around his neck, her torso twisted awkwardly over the railing and atop his chest. "Cloud, you're awake!"

He grunted and tried to respond, but the respirator was in the way. He reached up to pull it off his face, his other arm reflexively snaking around Tifa's waist. "How long have I been out?"

Her voice was muffled by his skin. "A little more than a week."

A week? It sure hadn't felt like it had been such a long time. It hadn't felt like any time passed at all.

His thoughts returned to the present when Tifa's warmth pulled away from his body. She cocked her head to one side, her forehead creasing with unspoken questions. When she finally found her voice, it was with great carefulness and deliberation that she asked, "What happened?"

Somehow he knew that she wasn't asking how he managed to end up in the hospital. That was already pretty obvious. Nothing less than a major accident on the Fenrir could have taken him out for so long.

No, she was asking what had caused him to lose his concentration so fully that he crashed. His reply came out of its own accord. "I was afraid."

Her eyes softened. She knew what he was talking about. After all, she had always seemed to be able to know what he meant without needing him to complete the thought. Yet, for some reason, she felt that this time he _needed_ to speak what his mind thought. Thus, she inquired, "Of what?"

He paused to stare into her burgundy eyes. They were a continual source of strength for him, and he found her willing him to continue. "…Of failing. Of failing you, failing Marlene, failing the world. Failing Denzel. I can't be a hero for him, and I'm scared of disappointing him…all of you."

"Cloud, you're trying too hard. The kids, especially Denzel, just need you to be their father. You don't have to be their hero." Cloud couldn't help but notice the repetition of Aerith's earlier sentiments. "Just because somebody's a hero doesn't make him a good father, but you can bet that if he's a good father, then he's already a hero in the eyes of his children, regardless of all circumstances. They just want you to be you. _I_ just want you to be you."

She sat back rigidly in her chair and suddenly looked uncomfortable as she averted her eyes. "It's not as if we have some set of conditions you have to meet for us to love you, Cloud. You know that, don't you?"

"…I know."

Silence washed over the room, but it was not an awkward one. He watched her intently as her fingers played with the hem of his bed sheet. "I was worried, you know, but I knew you wouldn't just leave us."

He started slightly at her sudden statement. But then he understood what she meant. She was reassuring him that she trusted him, that she trusted he wouldn't just run off again like he did when he contracted Geostigma, that she trusted him with her hope and the hope of their family.

He reached out a hand and enveloped her smaller ones in a tender hold. Her eyes snapped up to meet his and a jolt of happiness surged through her body. "I won't ever leave."

She smiled. "I know."

* * *

**A/N**: Alrighty, well I hope it wasn't too confusing, but confusion is just part of the fun sometimes. hehe... 


	4. The Art of Privacy I

**A/N: **Okay, so you know how I said I was gonna keep this light-hearted? Well, I lied. Well, I didn't really lie, but this came out and it's not exactly light-hearted. However, I do still want to amend my description of this project. I think that every family has it's problems and while it would be more humorous to stick with the fun times, it wouldn't be realistic if I didn't stick some not so fun times in there. Anyway, all that to say that this one is not happy-go-lucky.

Thank you soooo much to all my reviewers. I love you all and I promise I'll get around to responding (one of these days). Honest.

Oh, and this is part one of a sub series that will be continued as inspiration hits.

**Disclaimer: **I make no money off of Final Fantasy VII, Advent Children, or Last Order. If you try to sue me for it, then I'll just have to sue you back for perjury.

* * *

**Household Rules  
**

**Rule Number Four: The Art of Privacy I - Silence is Sometimes the Best Policy**

She really should have seen it coming. After all, the past couple of days should have tipped her off that Cloud was reverting to the silent self he was in during the Geostigma incident. It should have tipped her off that something important was occupying his mind so much that he didn't take any deliveries.

She should have seen it coming. But she didn't.

And it is because she didn't see it that she stood there now, watching his silhouette shamefully from the shadows rather than by his side. She couldn't think of anything to say that would ease his pain.

"Tifa?" The child's voice was soft and Tifa motioned silently for Marlene to not say anything, but his hearing was too sharp to miss the whisper that seemed to reverberate through the house-bar in which they lived.

His head turned slightly in their direction, but that was all the acknowledgement they received.

The little girl turned inquisitive, hazel eyes on her mother figure and was about to run out into the living room where Cloud sat in a numbed trance when a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Let's get you to bed," said Tifa quietly.

Marlene threw one more troubled glance at Cloud before adhering to her guardian's command. Despite her young age of eight, she had an uncanny ability of sensing tense situations and this was definitely one in which she did not wish to be involved. (Of course, that didn't mean that she wouldn't come back down to spy on her two guardians later on.)

Tifa was about to follow the scampering Marlene up the stairs when Cloud's mellow voice pierced through the pregnant silence. "It's been four years already."

He did not seem to expect a response, his eyes glazing with reminiscence and sorrow. And she, she could only gaze at him in silent empathy. All words failed her, and she could think of nothing that would comfort him.

Four years. Had it really been so long? Then again, it sometimes felt as if it happened only yesterday. That is time operates however. Each individual day passes by slowly, crawling in an agonizingly sluggish tempo, but each month, each year passes with the rapidity of a single day.

Yet still, he could recall with vivid detail the sweat, the dirt, and the blood…the blood that looked like spilled paint on a canvas when it happened. The ragged breathing and the harsh afternoon sun beating down tyrannically against his face. Sweat poured from his body in droves, confined as he was in the thick material of a Shinra trooper's uniform, but he noticed nothing in his dazed state. Nothing, until the muted shot from a sniper rang through the desert air.

This was how he was going to die. At least, that's what he would have thought if he still had the capacity to do so.

The bullet never connected with his flesh, but still the fetid scent of iron mixed with exhaust fumes from the truck in which they rode assaulted his nose, the taste of liquid metal splattered into his mouth; all of it serving to wake him from his traumatized stupor only to realize that it was already too late.

His best friend, his comrade in arms, had sacrificed himself for his sake.

And today marked the four year anniversary of his death.

"_You need to stop thinking depressing thoughts. It doesn't help me when you're thinking of how gruesome a death I died, you know."_

Cloud had trouble reconciling the nonchalant tone of Zack's voice in his head with the unjust way in which he died. _"I'm really useless aren't I?"_

"_If you keep thinking that way, then yes."_

"_People are always sacrificing themselves for me. And I…I can't do a thing to repay them, to repay you."_

"_If you really wanted to repay me, you'd get out of this stupid rut you've gotten yourself into. It's not as if I'm bitter about my death nor do I regret it. Besides, think of it this way: if I didn't die, you never would have met all your friends; you might not have even met Tifa again. For all we know, this Planet could have been destroyed ten times over already!"_

"_You could have stopped Sephiroth, probably with less trouble than I did."_

"_No, Cloud. I couldn't. You have some stubborn streak about you that lets you do the impossible. I could have helped maybe, but in the end, _you_ would have been the one to do him in. Remember, you're the one who killed Sephiroth the first time in Nibelheim and that was _without_ any Mako injections. The world doesn't make sense a lot of the times, but you can bet that there's some sort of order to it. My dying was a minor tragedy that paved the way for you to prevent the destruction of the world. I believe that. After all, I'm still—or was anyway—human. I'd like to think that I died for something, you know?"_

"_Maybe. But it doesn't make it any easier."_

"_That's what family and friends are for, you idiot."_

His mind barely registered the slight sinking of the sofa, and his deadened senses told him that a smaller pair of hands, though not smooth or soft, elicited a greater sense of warmth than anything he had previously known as they enveloped his in a gentle caress. The pads of her fingertips traced the hardened skin at the base of each of his fingers as she rested her head against his shoulder, her mere presence enough to calm his frayed nerves.

It was in moments like these that he truly understood what she had meant all those years ago when she'd said that words aren't the only thing that tell people what you're thinking. Right now, she was telling him so much.

She was telling him that he wasn't alone, that he had a family to care for and to be cared by. She was telling him that not only did she not mind the scars of his past, but she would do all she could to heal them. She was telling him that he was her pillar of support just as much as she was a source of comfort to him.

He still could not smile, but the burden in his heart had lightened ever so slightly. He rubbed his cheek over the top of her head gently and let it rest there as he reveled in her presence. He turned his hand in her hold so that their fingers intertwined while his other arm wrapped around her shoulders, his hand molding the bare flesh of her upper arm.

She knew how to interpret the gentle squeeze he pressed into her hand. It was a silent thank you.

Her lips curved into a comforted smile and she returned the gesture.

_You're welcome._


	5. A Mother's Hands

A/N: I'm back with more rules!! Finally, I know. I must admit that I've been in a total writing slump these past couple of months. But, it appears that my creativity is making a return, so that should be good news for you all. And I know it's a little early (a week to be precise), but this one is for all you mothers out there. Happy Mother's Day!

...This would also be the cue for you non-mothers out there to get something nice for your mother. Anyhow, enjoy and leave a little something por favor! (aka a review)

**Disclaimer: **Ahh...it's too difficult trying to think of original disclaimers all the time. Suffice to say that Final Fantasy 7 and all related merchandise belongs to Square Enix. Me? I own my ideas, which doesn't include the original concept so I guess I'm out of luck.

* * *

**HOUSEHOLD RULES**

**Rule Number Five: A Mother's Hands are the Perpetual Black Hole for Garbage**

There is something about a mother's pair of loving hands that beckons to all the bubble gum wrappers of the world, all the used tissues that are still slightly damp from the secretions a child produces when he or she is sick, all the empty plastic bags that—at one point in time—contained delectably greasy slices of fried potato, and all the rest of the random items that a child deems worthy of placing under his mother's security.

This is a universally acknowledged fact that is generally accepted with indifferent shrugs from most and apathetic sighs from others, but unfortunately for the Seventh Heaven's resident mother—namely a certain brunette by the name of Tifa Lockhart—it was a reality that crawled upon her with such stealth that would have put even the "Great Ninja Yuffie" to shame. Indeed, so great was the surreptitiousness of that minor detail that she had neither the time nor the composure to understand that this was a conventional aspect of motherhood.

Even now as she washed her hands free of the sticky, glucose substance that had smeared onto her hands from the plastic Popsicle wrapper thrust towards her by two hyper children intent on rushing outside to enjoy the afternoon heat, she couldn't help but wonder how everything had escalated quite so quickly.

She remembered quite clearly the day in which it all began. It was the day that Denzel, for the first time, had asked hastily, albeit rather shyly, if she could throw away his burger wrapper as he chased down Marlene for throwing a piece of straw wrapper in the mop of messiness that passed for his hair. Of course, at the time, Tifa had been far too amused to realize the implications of the simple little action of taking that single burger wrap. Then again, there is a very likely possibility that Tifa would have chosen to serve her family in this way even if she had foreseen the long line of rubbish that would soon find its way into her hands.

Regardless, it marked an alteration in the family dynamics of their less-than-typical family the moment she accepted that flimsy piece of paper as her responsibility to dispose. The transformation had begun slowly, gradually, but the rate of change quickly graduated from marginal to exponential in a matter of weeks.

The requests from the children addressed to their mother figure to throw out bits of this-and-that were initially few and long between. However, not long had passed before Tifa found herself instinctively carrying a small plastic grocery bag along with her so that she could consolidate all the garbage she received into one easily throw-away-able location.

Never before had she felt quite so old.

Nor did it help matters that, when she expelled this particular fear of looking far older than her actual age of twenty-four to her confidante—also known as her boyfriend—he simply shrugged and smiled that irritatingly attractive, goofy smile of his, yet offered no useful solution in the process.

It wasn't as if she minded being a living garbage disposal for the children. Okay, so maybe she did mind.

Yes, they were only kids, but at the very least they could have the common courtesy of asking before shoving their unwanted items at the poor bartender—never mind the fact that any courtesy they knew was taught by the aforementioned woman. Thus it was in a strange but not-quite-vicious cycle that she trapped herself, not wanting to be a breathing trash can, but also wanting so badly to be a true mother for them.

Oh yes, and the mind wreaks havoc once again!

With a sigh that denoted an emotion somewhere between annoyance and reluctant yielding, Tifa wiped her hands dry on a towel before staring at them thoughtfully. She took note of the rough calloused areas at the base of each finger and a frown developed on her face.

Turning her hands over, she rubbed the faint outline of a darkened streak on the back of her left hand, remembering with a wince the time that the poisonous edge of the Midgar Zolom's fangs had sliced through her gloves. It had been a particularly nasty injury although she had made light of it at the time. Later that day, however, Tifa had been forced to stop when Cloud found out that the poison had eaten away at much of the tissue, causing it to bubble and turn a sickly shade of green around the infected area. They had managed to clean out enough of the toxin that it would no longer deteriorate the flesh, but not enough to prevent a permanent scar from forming.

Tifa recalled with a faint smile that Cloud had been extraordinarily angry at her for withholding her injury while she had been equally at angry at Cloud for being angry at her for such a trivial matter. She realized now—though she hadn't understood it at the time—that he was simply concerned for her well-being.

The smile faded soon after, however, with another sigh.

The more she studied her hands, the less they looked like a set of hands that a mother would have. A mother's hands were supposed to be soft and warm, the embodiment of all that is comforting. They weren't supposed to be rough like hers, nor were they supposed to be covered in scars. They were supposed to be instruments of welcome, not of condemnation.

Her hands belonged to a warrior, not a mother.

She felt a pair of masculine arms slide around her waist, and she automatically leaned back to melt into the embrace.

"What are you thinking about?" His breath was warm against her neck, and she couldn't stop the slight giggle from erupting from her lips when his breathing displaced a lock of hair which, in turn, tickled her collarbone.

She didn't answer his query and instead posed one of her own. "Cloud, what were your mother's hands like?"

She could feel the furrow of his eyebrows against the side of her head. "Why?"

"Just tell me."

With a small shrug, Cloud obediently closed his eyes in pleasant nostalgia and his fingers instinctively began tracing her hands. "My mother…her hands were a direct reflection of who she was. They were gentle and soft most of the time, but man, did they sting when she wanted to get a point across. She had long nails, and they made her hands look so much bigger than mine. More than anything, though, I remember how her fingers would close tightly around mine whenever we went out to town, whenever we had to endure those stares of scorn. Well, at least, my mother had to. I was too young to really understand what was going on. My mother never married, you know, and the townspeople didn't really appreciate that."

Tifa turned in his arms and hugged him closely, a part of her regretting bringing up such a sensitive subject for the blue-eyed man, but a part of her also undeniably ecstatic that he would even tell her all that he had. "I'm sorry, Cloud."

He smiled into her hair and questioned, "So what's this all about anyway?"

She chewed her bottom lip as she tried to phrase her worry in a manner that seemed at least a little less irrational. "My mother had beautiful hands. She didn't really have long nails since she loved to play piano every now and then, but I remember noticing that they always seemed so well formed. Her hands were smooth and soft, but unrelentingly firm when the time called for it. I remember my father never dared to question her when she gave him that look." Her lips twitched upward at the corners. "They were a source of warmth when I was cold and a source of refreshment when it was hot. What do you think of when you see my hands, Cloud?"

He stared at her in confusion, but was cut off before he could completely gather his thoughts.

"I'll tell you what I think of. I think of hopeless battles and endless wars. I think of times when chaos reigned over peace. I think of sadness and pain. I think of hate and disappointment." She paused, her faint outline of a smile gone only to be replaced by a fervor fueled by perplexity. Her voice softened.

"I think…I think that my hands can never become those of a mother. I think that they are too scarred and worn and beaten to ever hold and care and love. When I look at them, I realize that I can't be there for them. I'm a fighter. I won't stop fighting because I can't. I don't know how. But, one of these days, I'm going to mess up and I'll die fighting, but not in the type of fight that I want to die in. And then that'll be it."

"Tifa…You're the best thing to have happened to any of us. I don't even know—no, I definitely know that I wouldn't—have even survived this long without you. Your hands are scarred, but so are mine. We all live with the battles of our past." He took her hands in his own. "The kids…they don't care what kind of battles your hands have seen. They see your love and they see your care and that's all that matters to them. That's all that matters to me. And maybe…maybe one of these days you will fight your last battle, but then the kids can be proud that you fought hard to the end. There's no such thing a stereotypical mother, Tifa. It's like you tell me all the time: you don't have to be perfect for them—for me—to love you. We're happy to take you as you are because that's so much more than what we deserve."

A steady stream of tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks as she nodded in understanding. They were a family, a family who would love unconditionally regardless of all circumstances.

"Tifa, Tifa!" The dual voices of the bartender's two charges pierced the silence and electrified it with energy. "Close your eyes. We have something for you."

An eyebrow rose in suspicion as she quickly wiped off all evidence of her tears. Cloud stood by in amusement. "It doesn't happen to be plastic and needs to be thrown out, now does it?"

Marlene giggled uncontrollably although Denzel looked slightly offended. "Of course not!" exclaimed the girl. She thrust a colorful picture frame towards her surrogate mother. "We made it in school today."

"Happy Mother's Day!" exclaimed the two children in tandem.

Tifa's heart melted as she took the frame in her blemished hands. Seashells of various sorts were glued to the frame in a manner that looked like two different people had taken the two sides—which is likely what really happened—and the workmanship was less then professional, but it still warmed her beyond words. What really stole her breath, however, was the hand-drawn portrait of their unconventional family that sat within the frame. They were little more than stick-figures, but they were all holding hands. A real family. It was all she had ever wanted.

"You like it, Tifa?" asked Marlene excitedly.

"I love it, Marlene. Thank you so much and thank you too, Denzel. It's gonna go up on my wall, okay?"

The children cheered in unison.

It was a beautiful moment and it is only natural that in such beautiful moments something should occur to bring it back to earth. In this case, that instance took place in the form of the boy named Denzel.

"Tifa, can you take this wrapper for me? The kids down the block are gonna go play kickball."

She smiled. So what if her hands were scarred? That made them all the better for throwing out the children's scraps. "Of course, Denzel. Have fun."

* * *

A/N: Hehe...I figure, we can't always have Cloud being the clueless one, now can we?


End file.
